Twittering the Day Away...

Remember how I was gushing so recently about having reclaimed the old sewing mojo? Well, as so often happens in my world, I have become distracted and am thus unable to do any sewing--though I'd like to, very much. It's a forced distraction--entirely not my fault this time (as if it needed to be justified). As some of you know, my family's life takes us from one part of the world to a very different, far-away part of the world several times a year. All four of us are now in the States until August, and to reference the original intent of this post, I am thus away from my lovely Janome sewing machine, with which I had become re-acquainted during the construction of the Amy Butler purse (which I'm loving, by the way).

We've been here (Texas) for a week now, and actually, I hadn't had a chance to think much of sewing until today, when I went to Jane Brocket's blog for some book ideas. I'm afraid I may have taken up a new and expensive book-buying habit--of course I already have a good book habit going, but now that I've placed my first order with Persephone Books, that's where the expensive part comes in. Because I do not live in Britain.

But back to sewing. I'd like to make something this summer when I find the time, but that will happen only if I can get my dear grandmother's machine working. I don't think it's been used in years; actually I know it hasn't been used in years. We've just moved my grandmother into a retirement center, which was precisely not a happy thing for her. But this move needed to happen--really. So things have been somewhat stressful. Sweaty walks with Husband and late-night solo yoga and reading have helped get my cortisol levels down after the strain of the past week, and I can't help but think that some sewing might be a nice idea as well. If that doesn't happen, maybe First Child and I can finally learn to crochet (insert laughter at the mere thought of our learning something new during the summer). At any rate, some diversions are definitely in order.

It's been months since I've bought a Jeu de Paume book. Where I live, they can be hard to find. I spotted this one recently in a shop and decided a few days later to make it mine, via Japanese Amazon (easy, peasy...). Sometimes I save my Japanese-language mooks (magazine-books) for when I'm watching TV or on the phone with family, since I'm only looking at the pictures, after all. But this title was just right for a sit-down with tea yesterday afternoon when it was raining. You can see another lovely Jeu de Paume title here, in this very cool blog. And if you don't want to bother with Amazon.jp, you can order these and other Japanese-language mooks from yesasia.com. Fun!

3:05: "Do you think he's home yet?""No. Give him ten more minutes."3:07:"Can I see if he's home yet?""I'm sure he isn't. I said you need to wait ten minutes or so."3:08:"Do you think he's there yet?""Can't you give him a few more minutes?"Slam!

There goes Second Child, out the door and on the way up the hill to see if his new friend (and fellow Pokemon aficionado) is home from school. We're happy about this friend, just moved in from California, whose family actually has chosen to live off base, unlike most of the military families here. He's a good kid and a good fit for ours, and I must say, we're thrilled to have an American boy for Second Child to play with, after two years of nobody. Sure, there have been street-soccer matches with a few Japanese boys nearby, but that just hasn't been enough. Second Child has had on-base friends, but most of them have stayed busy with the loads of other on-base kids, who roam the base playgrounds in packs. We know all about this; we lived on base for two years.

And then there's First Child, whose best friend moved in June, and will be moving again next year, and the year after that (military kids have to put up with a lot!). One reason we put both kids in school for a couple of hours in the mornings is so they might each make a couple of new friends; it's unfortunate that there are very few homeschoolers here, so those kinds of friendships have been few and far-between. Actually, I believe that a child really needs only a few good friends, and in fact, this is all most kids can handle. In June I read a wonderful book, Hold On to Your Kids: Why Parents Need to Matter More Than Peers. I really believe this book should be required reading for parents--that's how strongly I feel about it. The authors, two Canadian doctors, talk about how kids are often pushed (by their parents!) into not being "shy" or "too weird"--imagine that: in a society as seemingly non-conformist as ours (the U.S. and Canada), here we are, telling our kids not to stand out! The authors also believe that rebellion against one's parents isn't unavoidable; rather, it's a sign that kids (often teens) have bonded too closely with their peers, who have in some ways practically replaced the parents. It's fascinating stuff, and there's much to learn about how peer attachment has created heaps of problems for much of the developed world.

Read it and be amazed. Then keep your kids as close as you can, for as long as you can. Of course, let them head up the street for that occasional Pokemon battle.

After all, they've become quite the hip accessory for trendy earthmamas, like a new Chanel bag for the Junior League set. But now that I've read Catherine Goldhammer's book Still Life With Chickens: Starting Over in a House By the Sea, I don't think I want chickens anymore. See, the book gives lots of information about chickens--way more than I was truly interested in knowing. For instance, I was unaware that chickens can become eggbound and die. I was unprepared for descriptions of their unsightliness when they're in that awkward stage between cutie-pie chick and matronly adult chicken (kind of like newly-pubescent humans, I guess). I had greatly underestimated their changing housing needs (Who knew they were so finicky?). Basically, I was previously unware that they are apparently a whole heck of a lot of trouble.

I like animals, but we do not currently own any (Smoothie, our lone hamster, recently passed on, may she rest in peace). I certainly did not grow up around animals (disclosure: I had a few "outside cats" that I eventually "let" my parents take to the Humane Society in trade for a Captain & Tennille album--I know, the shame!!). Oh, and there's that notation in our present rental agreement about not keeping any animals in our Japanese house--not that we'd be keeping chickens in the house, of course--wait, Goldhammer did, for a while!

But back to the book. While it certainly is about chickens, it's more a pleasant, sometimes pained, fairly-poetic tale of the author's life transformation post-divorce for herself and her daughter. Much of the non-chicken-related content describes in detail the author's buying and renovating a small house on the East Coast that she came to call a farm (due to the chickens and some attempts at culinary gardening). The chickens were, according to Goldhammer, "the thread, the real thing that pulled us, stumbling and fearful, into the future."

And while things do settle down somewhat with the chickens by the end of the book, it's become apparent to me that I'm more likely to get that Chanel bag than a coop-ful of chickens. No Junior League membership, though.

I happened upon another gorgeous Jeu de Paume book recently. I spotted it and snapped it up immediately, dragging it off to another part of the bookstore like a feral cat crashing a picnic. It took me, oh--about twenty seconds of flipping-through to decide that "Stockholm's Apartments" was a keeper. Just as in London Kitchens, the colors are bright and the designs almost always non-minimalist. Love it, bought it, can't read it, but no matter. Who buys decorating books for the text, anyway?

The other day, while nosing through the delightful selection in my favorite nearby (Japanese) book and magazine shop, I stumbled upon this book. It was nestled appropriately in the craft/decorating/homemaking/lifestyle aisle that I haunt greedily whenever I have the chance.

I suppose I should mention that I don't read Japanese, and I don't know of a single other American around here who frequents Japanese bookstores. I'm a bit of a loner in this regard, and I often wonder whether Japanese people in these stores ever ponder whether or not the red-haired gaijin woman hanging out for an hour in the decorating mags can actually read them. Alas, you won't hear me saying "I only buy it for the articles," because when I buy Japanese magazines/books (sometimes it's hard to distinguish between these descriptors), I definitely am buying them only for the pictures!

But back to my latest purchase. I often envy and appreciate a certain kind of European style, and especially this style as seen through the eye of the Japanese book and magazine publisher. Japanese people seem to love a quirky, vintage, handmade Europeanness--basically "zakka" style-- which is exactly what I prefer. This book showcasing cool kitchens in London is perfect. It's not a book full of spare, sleek, carefully-edited, built-in kitchens that could be in a Home Depot showroom (the kind of kitchen that's unfortunately on display all too often in American decorating mags). These kitchens are alive with color, useful utensils, cute-modern items, vintage displays, and loads of style. I love them all. Jeu de Paume publishes plenty of other lovely decorating books, too--I flipped through some in Tokyo a couple of years ago, but as I recall, Husband was lurking in the area to make sure I didn't blow the day's food budget on more "unnecessary" (ha!) magazines and books that I can't read. Oh, but I do love them so!

The very idea of being a "slacker mom" appeals to me greatly, since I am by nature somewhat lazy. After all, I am writing a "30-Second Review"! However, something kept me from reading this book by Muffy Mead-Ferro until two years after its publication. I think I assumed it was a book of non-fiction anecdotes written by a woman who thinks it's funny to plonk her kids down in front of a day-long TV "Godfather" marathon with a huge bag of Funyuns, assortment of Hostess and Little Debbie products, and individual Mountain Dew IVs, while Mom is either (A) passed out in another room with the shades drawn after (another) night of wild overindulgence, or (B) "away" for a bit getting (another) tattoo, and unconcernedly absent since her five-year-old is "really very responsible, for his age."

But I was mistaken; the book is pretty tame, truly funny, and actually more of a "how-to" guide for parenting--well, "anti-how-to" is more appropriate. Confessions of a Slacker Mom pokes fun at all the activities, devices, books, and just plain "stuff" Modern American parents deem necessary for raising Modern American children nowadays. I especially liked the chapter in which Mead-Ferro comments on the disservice done to children by parents who think their kids should have their "own" everything--room, car, computer, cell phone, bathroom, and so on. The author wonders whether such children will be able to function effectively in a world in which "sharing" is often necessary, and the word "no" makes an appearance all too frequently. Attachment parents take note: the author does mention spanking in a not-altogether-bad light, and she defends the non-slacker part of her life--her full-time job--in a way that could come off as a bit strident. And I found it fascinating that much of the book makes an inadvertently-excellent case for homeschooling/unschooling, if you read it the way I do, though Mead-Ferro is certainly no homeschool mom.

By the way, just so you know: I'm not averse to a good ol' Hostess Ding Dong from time to time, and Husband quite enjoys a Japanese version of Funyuns. That means our kids occasionally manage to ingest said items and other "food frauds" as well, and I don't get all freaked out about that. Most of the time.

How the heck does Caitlin Flanagan manage to get pretty much everyone irritated with her, some to the point of threatening to challenge her to a duel? Okay, I made that up, but it seems that bad to me, anyway. I was all set to give her book To Hell With All That: Loving and Loathing Our Inner Housewife a pass on judgment, particularly because so many reviewers were being, well--a little harsh. You know, the fact that Flanagan had a nanny and still has a housekeeper and does precious little in the way of cooking and cleaning should not disqualify her from writing about her mixed feelings on housekeeping and everyday life with kids, I figured. Before I'd read more than half of the book, I'd gone so far as to write this in the little notebook I carry everywhere with me:

I am not inclined to write a comprehensive review of To Hell With All That, partly because others have already done so, and partly because I don't feel strongly about this book, or Flanagan, one way or the other.

Now that I've finished the book, it's still true that I'm not going to do a comprehensive review. However, that lack of opinion "one way or the other" pretty much went out the window when I read Flanagan's mention of attachment parenting:

I understood the rationale behind Dr. Sears's weird recommendation that we should all bunk down in the same bed like dingoes in a den, and I knew from La Leche League (a group whose fixation on other women's breasts I came to regard as sexually suspect) that a breastfed baby would be superior in every possible way to a bottle-fed one. (121)

I'm all for tongue-in-cheek observations, but really: bunking down in the same bed "like dingoes in a den"? How about like humans have been doing, safely, for thousands of years? And what's that about LLL's supposed fixation on human breasts that Flanagan found sexually-suspect? Them's fighting words. I suppose Flanagan must accordingly believe that all podiatrists have foot fetishes and all gynecologists are total perverts; I could go on. Does she even see the ridiculousness of her assertion, which she backs up in absolutely no way at all? Gotta say, I was involved with La Leche League at different levels for a number of years, and I never found anyone, Leader or group mom, who seemed even remotely sexually-fascinated by breasts. I can feel my blood pressure going up as I'm writing this, so I'm just going to leave it at that.

I do like that Flanagan can and does poke fun at herself and some of the choices she and others of her elevated social class have made. So I'll move on, to a couple of quotes from the book that I found thoughtful and maybe less-threatening:

The current upper-middle-class practice of outsourcing even the most intimate tasks may free up valuable time for an important deposition, but it by no means raises the caliber of one's home life. (201)

That's rich, from someone who has a maid and a once-a-week home organizer (!), which leads to the next quotation:

For many women, myself included, thrashing through the flotsam of a household in the cheerful company of a professional organizer provides the illusion that we are getting control of the lives we are living.

Pretty interesting thought, that.

And here's something that will really thrill Husband. In one of the better chapters, the one entitled "Housewife Confidential," Flanagan talks about famous "housewife writers" of the past, including Erma Bombeck and Peg Bracken. I remember reading Bombeck as a child (a fairly precocious literature choice that doesn't make much sense to me looking back on it--but hey, those books are funny!). I also remember Peg Bracken's books The I Hate to Cook Book and the The I Hate to Housekeep Book, complete with illustrations by Hilary Knight, of Eloise fame. I think my family owned the cookbook, as did many, many other American households. What Husband will appreciate is that while reading about these books, I felt the pull of nostalgia so strongly that I now think I should start a collection of cool vintage housekeeping books. Time for a new bookshelf. I plan to start with Bracken's books (loads of them on ebay, by the way).

A Mama's Rant is graciously hosting a contest to give away two copies of the book Lost and Found, by Carolyn Parkhurst. I don't really even know anything about the book--but I'm a sucker for stuff like this, though I almost never win. Can't say I never do, as I did recently win an issue of Literary Child, a delightful literary activity magazine for kids. I chose the James and the Giant Peach issue as my prize, since our family loves Roald Dahl books. We've read James before, but it's high time for a re-read. I'm also set for a "re-read with accompanying activities" of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, right on up there at the top of my list of books I enjoy reading aloud, though my British accent is highly suspect. Now if I could pry my kids away from Nickelodeon/Disney Channel/Cartoon Network long enough to fit in a chapter or two, I'd be accomplishing quite a feat. They normally love read-alouds, but the TV is exerting a very strong gravitational pull right now ("'cause we're on vacatiooooon!").

Can I just say that I am in love with this book? I found it in the "new books" section of our base library, which occasionally manages to bring in something not authored by LaVyrle Spencer, Danielle Steel, or some lose-weight-quick diet guru. A serious update of travel literature is desperately needed, but that's for another day. "She Got Up Off the Couch" is a book I need to buy, just so I can sleep with it under my pillow--no, maybe it should be my pillow, so some of Haven Kimmel's wicked hilarity and delight in the small goofinesses of life can bore right into my brain via osmosis. I can't believe I missed the prequel, "A Girl Named Zippy," when it was first published--obviously I must run out to Half-Price Books ASAP after getting to the States in a week or so and snag a copy for my very own. I can already recommend both of these books, because if you were once a kid and are now an adult, you will laugh, and laugh hard.